


When You're Sober...

by witchy_words



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Baby, Bars, Classic Rock, F/M, Fluff, Foreigner, No Smut, Smoochies, Songfic, UST, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-08-12 05:39:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7922593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchy_words/pseuds/witchy_words
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Reader go out for drinks, the reader gets drunk, and the reader admits her feelings to Dean. Smoochies ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When You're Sober...

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a fluffy one-shot songfic. I had so much fun writing this, and I hope you have fun reading it!

"Uuugh!" you wailed loudly as you slammed yet another book closed, finding nothing useful inside. You smashed your face onto the table in the the library of the bunker and let out a muffled scream. Dean let out a deep, rumbling laugh at your odd outburst and you looked up angrily. "What're you laughing at?" you snapped. 

Dean smirked shamelessly at you, seemingly unaffected by your venomous tone and replied, "Just you. You're so adorable when you're pissed off at research." 

You tried not to blush at the compliment. You never expected Dean to notice you in that way. You sneered playfully in reply to Dean's comment, saying, "I'm not pissed off at 'the research,’” you fixed him with another glare before continuing. “It's just that you’re convinced there’s a case here, and I've found absolutely nothing to back it up. It's just freaking exhausting!" 

"Looks like someone's getting a little stir crazy," Dean observed in a husky, dead sexy voice that made your heart skip a beat and butterflies act up in a certain southern region. You nervously licked your lips and exhaled through your nose, trying to string coherent thoughts together and failing miserably. 

"Uhh, yeah, I need some air,” you fumbled awkwardly. “Also alcohol. I need alcohol. That is a thing I need." 

Dean's eyes crinkled as he grinned. "Let's go then. Drinks are one me," he said as he grabbed his keys and sauntered toward the garage, showing off that delectable ass of his. Yeah, you needed alcohol. 

\- - -  
Once you arrived at the first bar you came to, you had just barely managed to pull yourself together, but then Dean just had to open the door for you and gently place one hand at the small if your back to usher you in. The simple gesture made you blush. Well, that and want to jump his bones, but everything he did made you want to do that. You mentally scolded yourself. There was no way in Heaven, Hell, or anything in between that something could happen with your silly crush on the god-like Dean Winchester. 

You chose a table and put your head in your hands, trying to compose yourself before Dean came back with your drinks. After a few beers, your buzz started to kick in, making you relax. You smiled as you and Dean chatted casually. Everything was perfectly fine until you decided that whiskey would be a great idea. After all, you had to prove you were worthy of his affections and his… affections. You were definitely no lightweight, but the whiskey was stronger than you had anticipated. Unfortunately, that didn't stop you from being a fucking dumbass. 

~~~

After trying and failing to out-drink Dean, who politely declined your offer for whiskey, you were completely and totally wasted. The further the night progressed, the more giggly and talkative you got. Dean just smiled at you fondly as you rambled on, probably making a fool out of yourself but not particularly caring. Damn, he smelled good. Finally Dean decided enough was enough. He settled the tab, and assisted you out of the bar and into the Impala. "If you throw up in baby, I'll kill you" he threatened only half seriously. 

"Deenuh, I'm not gonna thow up in your preshis car." You stated, your words heavily slurred. Dean merely shot you a skeptical look as he switched on the radio. The soft sounds of Foreigner flowed from the speakers as you settled more comfortably into the seat. You gently slapped Dean’s hand away when he attempted to change the station.   
“Nooo,” you protested, still drunk off your ass. “I fuckin’ love thiss song!” Dean rolled his eyes, but humored you as you began to sing along. 

In my life there's been heartache and pain  
I don't know if I can face it again   
Can't stop now, I've traveled so far, to change this lonely life

You swayed drunkenly to the music, thoroughly enjoying yourself. Everything would have been fine for you if the song had just stopped there. The next few lines played

I want to know what love is, I want you to show me  
I want to feel what love is, I know you can show me  
I want to know what love is, I want you to show me

You gasped loudly, and slapped Dean on his very nice-smelling arm.   
“Oh my god! This is us, Dean!” You practically screeched.

Oh, shit. Even in your inebriated state, you knew the severity of what you had just let slip. You clapped your hand over your stupid mouth, eyes wide in horror. Dean looked over at you with one eyebrow raised in surprise. You did your best impersonation of a statue, hoping that would somehow fix what you had just done.   
“You want me to show you what love is?” Dean asked with that infuriating smirk. A deep crimson blush crept up over your face.   
“Well… it’s kinda...” you struggled lamely, the booze making your head foggy. Dean chuckled at your awkward struggle to cover your mistake. His usually sexy laugh suddenly sparked your ire. “Maybe I’m just really drunk, and nothing I say is making sense!” You almost shouted.   
“Well that’s true,” Dean admitted, his eyes sparkling with amusement. He glanced over at you. “I’m actually thinking you should get drunk more often,” he said, almost to himself. You sat silently trying to figure out what the older Winchester could possibly mean. 

Dean pulled over to the side of the road, and the two of you sat uncomfortably in the Impala, the only sound was the radio, still playing “your song.”

I want to know what love is, I want you to show me  
I want to feel what love is, I know you can show me  
I want to know what love is, I want you to show me

Dean sighed through his nose and flicked off the radio. 

“What are you doing, Dean? Can’t we just-” Dean twisted around suddenly, cupped his hand behind your head, and pressed his lips to yours in a passionate kiss. It felt as if the air had been pulled from your lungs. His lips were soft and warm against your own. You kissed him back with equal fervor, your mouths moving in unison, sending sparks through your body. He ran his tongue over your bottom lip and just barely entered your mouth. Your brain short circuited. You sighed leaning into him as your hand came to rest on his arm. Dean steadily deepened the kiss, drowning you in the sensation of his face pushed against yours.

It ended as quickly as it started. Dean pulled away from you and continued driving. You sat motionless, completely stunned at what had just happened. The rest of the admittedly short car was spent in strained silence

\---

When you finally arrived at the bunker your eyes were heavy with the need for sleep. The combination of a long day, too much to drink, and the confusing kiss that you weren’t totally sure had happened had left you in a haze. You tripped three times getting from the car to the door of the bunker. Even when Dean put a steadying arm around you swayed and staggered down the first few steps leading to the main floor of the bunker. After a couple more unsteady stairs, Dean finally scooped you up and carried you down the rest of the stairs. 

You thought he would just stop there, but he carried you all the way to your room, and set you gently on your bed. He looked at you for a long time as if soaking up every detail of your face. Then he leaned down and kissed you again. The kiss was soft and sweet, but it held the promise of more passion to come. You responded with equal passion but your kiss was clumsy. You felt the sloppiness of your kiss but you were too exhausted to fix it tonight. Dean didn’t seem to mind as he pulled you into him, running his hands along your curves. 

He finally released you when the need to breathe became a problem. He rested his forehead against yours and sat there panting softly. Gently, he pressed his lips to yours once more in a brief, chaste kiss. He pulled back with another one of those damn smirks. 

“How about we resume this when you’re sober, sweetheart?” He phrased it like a question, but his tone indicated that it wasn’t really your call. Fuck that, you thought. But deep down you knew it was for the best. Stupid Dean being right… 

You nodded reluctantly, and he left the room, closing the door quietly. Once he was gone, you flopped back onto the pillows, smiling at your unexpected success and cursing your stupid drunkenness that prohibited things from going further. As soon as you were sober, you and Dean would be finishing your conversation.


End file.
